


come away with something (to keep you in my heart)

by monsterq



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: (see end notes for details), ...semi-accidental, Accidental Voyeurism, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Slash, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterq/pseuds/monsterq
Summary: Geralt learns that Jaskier is a spy as well as a bard. This brings to mind a certain variety of less formal spying.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	come away with something (to keep you in my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Spying."

“You’re a what?”

Jaskier sighs. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

“You’re a _what_?”

“A spy, Geralt,” Jaskier tells him patiently, for the second time. “Not all the time, mind you. Just when they call on me, and even then, I remain the gregarious bard you know and love.” He tries a wink. No reaction. “Look, I wasn’t keeping it from _you_ , specifically. It’s just that it’s part of the job, you know. Not telling people.”

“Yes, I’m familiar.” Geralt is looking at him in a way Jaskier isn’t sure he’s ever looked at him before, eerie eyes traveling across his face as if peeling it back to inspect his brain. His brows are drawn together, and Jaskier can’t read his expression. He has to play this right. Prove he’s still the same person, that this isn’t a betrayal.

“Are you angry at me?” Great. Now he sounds like a child. _Well done, Jaskier, trained wordsmith, crowd-pleaser, and intelligence operative. Truly, your control of your audience is masterful._ “I mean, it did let me save you.”

Which is what brought them to this point. He was two towns away when he heard that Geralt had accepted a contract to kill a leshen from a certain Lord Eliasz, and he borrowed a horse and rode flat out to get to him before Geralt could spend a night in his castle. He’d learned the week before during a very fruitful soiree that Eliasz had told select parties he intended to capture a witcher. He wanted to find out if he could reverse engineer the mutations and make himself a superpowered army; if he couldn’t, he’d see if he could train up the one he had and keep it as his personal pet warrior.

Jaskier reached Geralt just as the witcher was going through his potions in the bedroom he’d been given. It was evening; he planned to wait until morning to hunt the leshen. He wasn’t pleased with Jaskier’s sketchy explanation of what he’d learned and how, exactly, he’d learned it, but he agreed to spend the night somewhere else, and his attitude toward Jaskier was improved when he found the walls of his room had no fewer than five peepholes.

Not improved enough, however, that he didn’t demand an explanation from Jaskier as soon as they were safe in a forest. (Not the one with the leshen, thank you very much. Which, according to the villagers, really did exist.)

“Angry? I don’t know yet,” Geralt answers now, making Jaskier wince. “What have you done? When you were _spying_.” He pronounces the word like it’s a relief to get it out of his mouth, and he might like a cup of water afterward to wash away the taste.

Jaskier doesn’t have one, so instead he says, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but hopefully nothing as bad as all that? Mostly I just watched people, chatted with them, was my usual charming self—don’t you scoff at me—and wrote down whatever might be politically useful. Then I sent that off and, well.” He spreads his hands. “That’s about it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt is studying him again, so Jaskier tries to make his face open, show he has nothing to hide. Mostly. He doesn’t expect the next question to be, “And what about Blessure Forest?”

Confused, Jaskier says, “Sorry?”

“When you hid and watched me by the river.” There’s a slight smirk on Geralt’s face. “Was that business or pleasure?”

A shock runs through Jaskier. He remembers that day, but he didn’t know Geralt was aware of his presence.

Jaskier was returning to their campsite after a bath in the river, damp and freshly scrubbed, when he was met with sounds that were familiar but unexpected.

He paused. Instinct made him creep forward slowly, quietly, and in a moment he saw Geralt sitting against a fallen tree. One leg was stretched out in front of him, and the other was bent, blocking Jaskier’s view of what exactly he was doing with his hand. But the motion of his arm, the hitching of his breath, and the furrow of his brow painted a vivid picture.

His eyes were closed, and he was biting his lip. The hand that wasn’t occupied crept up under his shirt; he let out a soft sigh. The next stroke brought a sound from his chest, so quiet Jaskier could barely hear it—a hum with the rough edges of a growl.

Jaskier couldn’t look away.

It was a minute or two before sounds panted from Geralt’s mouth with every breath. He squirmed, and Jaskier found he, too, was shifting restlessly. Geralt’s head tipped back, and his toes curled, and he let out a groan, body tense as a trip wire, before finally going limp.

Geralt’s hand, streaked with white across calluses and scars, rose to his mouth, and he licked it clean. Jaskier fled back to the river.

“Um,” Jaskier says now, and he can feel himself going red. For a moment, he considers trying to spin a tale about the vital political intelligence he was gathering from Geralt’s cock, but then he thinks that all else aside, he’d hardly have missed the opportunity to gather that intelligence in a more, er, hands-on manner. Which Geralt would surely know.

In the end he says, “Well…not business, per se. But in my defense, what mortal could have torn their eyes away?”

Geralt snorts and shakes his head. Feeling optimistic, Jaskier decides he’s forgiven.

“So what now?” he asks. The moon is rising; Jaskier can see pale slivers through the trees. “What are you going to do about Eliasz?”

Geralt hums, accepting the topic change. “I can’t leave him to attack another witcher. I’ll have to deal with him. The leshen first, though.”

Incredulous, Jaskier asks, “Someone tries to kidnap you, and you’ll still do business with him?”

“Well, I don’t expect him to pay me. But he won’t be the only one who wants the creature killed. It’s taken people from the village. Someone will be willing to pay.”

_And if they aren’t, you’ll have done it anyway, because it needed to be done. Oh, Geralt._

As he gets ready to sleep, another question crosses his mind. He turns to look at his companion, a silhouette now against the fire. “By the river…if you knew I was watching the whole time, why didn’t you stop?”

“Why should I?”

“Um…” For once, Jaskier can’t think of an answer.

And that’s before Geralt adds, “Next time, you know, you could just ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent tag: A flashback in which Jaskier happened upon Geralt masturbating and stayed to watch. Geralt was aware he was there and fine with it, but Jaskier didn't know that at the time.


End file.
